


Unto the Consummation of Their Days

by Skeiler



Series: CONFIDENCE [1]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Kissing, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Episode: s07e01 Oracle, Spoilers, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeiler/pseuds/Skeiler
Summary: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR ENDEAVOUR S7 E1 ORACLE. — Violetta remembers Morse very well from her time in Venice. It is not a coincidence that they are reunited.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse/Ludo Talenti/Violetta Talenti
Series: CONFIDENCE [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138580
Comments: 15
Kudos: 34





	Unto the Consummation of Their Days

**Author's Note:**

> And they vysited temples and oracles _vnto the consummation of their dayes_.
> 
> *
> 
> Like, I get it. This will be wrong in a week. But I just need to have this for 10 seconds okay? Come yell at me about it at en-deavour-ous.tumblr.com

The look the little Englishman is giving her pleases Violetta immensely. It’s a look of shock and upset, two emotions she tries to cultivate in men as she seeks to keep them unbalanced, on the defensive. At arms’ length. All things she has never managed with her husband, who is now putting his hands all over the skinny policeman and drawing him towards her.

“Morse,” Ludo oozes, “This is Violetta.”

Violetta has to do all the work in this (re)introduction, reaching forward to take Morse’s hand when he keeps staring at her dumbly. Why is this so hard for him to understand? They said no questions, they were together, they parted (well, she _de_ parted), now they meet again. Now he looks at her like she betrayed him somehow. It’s his fault for having expectations.

“The investor from America is here,” she tells her husband. “We should go flatter him, Americans like that.” To Morse she says, “Stay.”

To the Englishman’s credit, he follows orders well. By the time Ludo has finished greasing the American’s palms enough for him to invest heavily in their little enterprise, most of the other guests have started to wander off. Violetta looks out into the garden and sees the awkward policeman standing where she had left him.

“You found him, then,” she says when her husband joins her in the window.

“Yes,” Ludo replies, his voice losing all its charm. “It wasn’t difficult. You were right—all it took was a string quartet and a good pickpocket. He’ll be perfection. I as much as told him I was going to corrupt him and he smiled at me.”

“I told you, he is arrogant. He thinks he is so much smarter than everyone around him. More cultured,” Violetta laughs. “He is blind.”

“While we are waiting for the next phase, do you want to have some fun with him?” Ludo purrs against her neck. “I think he wants me. I almost kissed him on Monday and he didn’t seem opposed. If his colleague hadn’t interrupted, I would have made love to him on the floor of his _casa schifosa_.”

“I _know_ he wants me,” Violetta counters. “I told him it was nothing and by the second day he looked like he was planning marriage. I’m sure he’d like to have me again.”

“Go and bring him upstairs.”

It is more difficult than Violetta had anticipated. She goes into the garden, where Morse is the last person standing in the fading light. He looks at her with such a mixture of reproach and sorrow that Violetta laughs in his face.

“You might have told me you were married,” Morse hisses at her.

“Why would that make any difference? I wanted to fuck you, we fucked. _Χωρίς ερωτήσεις_. Now we meet again. Nothing has changed.”

Morse looks taken aback, as if her married state would have made a difference to him. “Everything has changed. You’re _married_. What about loyalty? And your husband is a… A friend.”

Violetta does not miss the hesitation when he speaks of Ludo. Rolling her eyes, she says, “Loyalty is a malleable concept. It’s smoke and mirrors in any marriage. Ludo and I have something more important, we have honesty.”

“And were you honest with him about me?”

“Yes.”

Violetta slips her arm through his and begins to guide him towards the house as Morse makes a face like he’s been told the saintly relics in the local church are faked (they are. They are always faked). He follows, still looking offended but powerless to stop her. As they go up the steps, Morse tightens his grip on her arm. Violetta is reminded of his smell as they walk, a smell like damp earth with something rotting in it. An English smell.

In the foyer they pause. She looks at him with his blue eyes. He is torn.

“Do you still want me?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says, voice low. “But I don’t think—”

Of course he wants to keep talking, so Violetta silences him with a kiss. He has this going for him, he has a good mouth for kissing. But he wants to touch her in such specific ways, hands on her back or her neck or her jaw as he pushes her gently against the newel post, volute between her shoulder blades. She is reminded of their time together, when he made love so eagerly and innocently. Without sophistication.

“Will you come upstairs?” she asks when he has started kissing her neck.

This seems to bring Morse back to reality, because he pulls away and looks at her with those eyes of his then drops his gaze to the floor. “I don’t think I can do something this… complicated.”

“Of course you can, you just do it. There is nothing complicated about it.”

“You have a husband—”

“If Ludo had kissed you on Monday would you have let him?”

Violetta enjoys the way Morse’s eyes snap up to meet hers and go wide. “What? Why would he do that?”

“Because he wanted to. He says you are a puppy and he wants to keep you. Would you make love to him?” Violetta asks. Morse’s eyes go wider. He looks at her like she is asking him to be her Aegisthus and stab her husband in the bath. “Would you make love to both of us?”

Reaching up, Violetta takes Morse’s jacket by the lapels and begins to guide it off his shoulders. He doesn’t protest, just keeps staring at her like he’s trying to work something out. It hits the floor and Violetta takes two steps up the stairs, kicks off her shoes. Keeping her eyes on his, she reaches back and unknots the ties of her dress and lets the flowing fabric fall. Morse takes a step up and Violetta reaches for his tie. They dance like this, one step, two, until they reach the landing and Morse’s undone trousers are barely clinging to his hips while Violetta sheds the last of her filmy lingerie.

Pulling him along behind her, Violetta leads him to the bedroom. Outside the door, she lets him kiss her again for a minute, lets him put his hands on her. When he is grinding his hips forward against hers, she tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls his face away.

“You never answered me,” she says.

“What?” Morse pants.

“Would you make love to both of us?”

Morse’s breath catches and he looks as if he can’t breathe. His eyes track back and forth—is he trying to decide whether she is joking? Finally, he puts on his sad and serious face. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to find out?” she asks, before slipping from his arms and opening the door to the bedroom.

Ludo is already naked and waiting—because of course he is, he has no sense of seduction—and he calls to them, “I thought you’d never arrive!”

Violetta joins him on the bed and turns to watch Morse as Ludo takes up the Englishman’s work of making love to her. For all the contrivances of their marriage, the sex is always honest and Ludo makes love far more passionately than the anxious islander. Morse is watching, half-undressed, as Ludo takes a nipple in his mouth, as Violetta arches her back. Violetta enjoys the way his trousers are hanging, the bright white of his underpants, the flush of his skin in the light—he looks stricken and aroused, whole face wide open with surprise and indecision. When she reaches out one hand towards him, he comes, sheds the remainder of his clothing at the foot of the bed and joins the pair.

With a sound of joyous surprise, Ludo pulls Morse to him to kiss. Violetta watches the Englishman’s body go rigid, watches Ludo kiss his intense kisses against Morse’s tension-closed mouth. Reaching out with her hands, she takes a prick in each one and both men moan in unison. She strokes them both as Ludo kisses Morse, until Morse lets his mouth yield and soften and Violetta watches him reach up a hand timidly to grip Ludo’s bicep. Squirming out from between them, Violetta turns around and pushes at both of them until they are sitting on their knees and looking at her.

“Violetta is our general tonight,” Ludo whispers, and Morse looks as if he is ready to swear fealty.

Pointing at their mouths, Violetta gives them their first direction, “Continue.”

Does Morse seem _pleased_ when Ludo reaches up and turns his face, kisses him again? Is that why he reaches up to caress Ludo’s jaw? Violetta smiles and situates herself comfortably so that she can lean forward and take Morse’s cock into her mouth. She remembers this, from Venice. Remembers the way he tasted and the sound he makes like a whine when she moves up and down. She grips his hip with one hand and with the other she reaches back between his thighs and strokes the skin behind his balls, lets herself focus on this work while Ludo focuses on his.

“You are delicious like this, Morse,” Ludo is purring while Morse pants. “I want to devour you.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Morse whines, and for a moment Violetta isn’t sure whether he is responding to Ludo’s words or her actions, but then Ludo’s fingers bump against hers between Morse’s thighs and the Englishman cries out.

Pulling up and away, Violetta sits back and surveys what she’s been missing. Ludo has Morse half cradled against his shoulder and the Englishman is panting, flushed, sweating. Like this is the only time Violetta found him beautiful, and she does so now. When he let himself go and finally became a whole person, without all his _concerns_ and his _morals_. He is letting go, now, burying his face against Ludo’s neck, one hand clawing softly at Ludo’s chest. Violetta doesn’t need to see what Ludo is doing with the hand behind Morse’s back, she merely quietly retrieves the small bag from the bedside table.

Ludo transfers ownership of Morse to her when she hands him the bag, and Violetta purrs against Morse’s ear, “Lie down.”

Kneeling behind Morse once he is situated on his side, Ludo leans over and takes hold of his jaw to twist Morse’s face towards Ludo’s. With one kiss so deep it makes Morse shiver against Violetta, Ludo asks, “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” Morse whispers. He sounds afraid, his eyes go wide, but he takes a breath. Calms himself. “Yes.”

“Good,” Violetta hums against his neck and Morse shivers deliciously again.

Pulling his face to her, they kiss as Ludo begins to work, first positioning Morse’s leg to drape over Violetta’s hip. If Violetta had known what it would be like to listen to the Englishman as he is worked open by Ludo’s fingers, she would have suggested this in Venice—but that would have come too close to giving the game away and there is a bigger picture to remember. One worth more than all the shivers and whines and sighs in the world, more than the feel of this Englishman’s mouth or the colour of his eyes.

“We’re ready,” Ludo whispers, and then comes the challenging part: trying to get their three bodies positioned comfortably.

They manage it with Morse between the pair, one of Violetta’s legs curled beneath him and the other hooked across both him and Ludo. When Violetta takes the Englishman inside her he looks at her with his eyes like he’s experiencing divinity, like she’s something pure and holy, and Violetta remembers that she did enjoy this stuffy adoration. And then Ludo pushes himself inside of Morse and the Englishman cries out.

“ _Oh_.”

It takes a moment to find a rhythm that works for all of them, Violetta and Ludo doing all the work because Morse has gone somewhere else in his mind. He’s overwhelmed and Violetta feels protective of him as he clings to her, hips stuttering in time with Ludo’s movements. They take Morse apart between them, Ludo crooning filthy things in every language he knows while the sounds Morse makes ring off the walls.

The end comes with fingernails digging into her back, a change in the tone of his noises to something higher, more desperate. The last thing Morse does before he comes is reach one arm back to touch Ludo, his body stretching taut between the pair, who lean in close to surround him. And then he collapses in on himself with a cry, crumples soft and boneless and spent.

Immediately he is asleep, and Violetta laughs as she and Ludo extricate themselves and see to cleaning up.

“Was he like this in Venice?” Ludo asks disdainfully. “So ungenerous. Neither of us finished.”

“Cheap, yes,” Violetta says distractedly as she watches Morse settle on the mattress.

“He has no choice but to be ours now,” Ludo preens. “It will be easier than that I thought to bend him to our needs. I should have guessed his price would be you.”

But Violetta has her doubts.


End file.
